Bypaths In Dixie Part 6

MISS RACE HOSS'S PARTY

Willis drank his soup noisily, insisted upon eating with his knife, upset a gla.s.s of milk on Jane's new Easter dress, and in the end was carried from the table kicking and screaming.

Mammy's attempts to pacify him proved futile, and fearing the wrath of his father, she gathered up the squirming, screaming boy as best she could and ran to her own room in the rear. Letting him fall upon the bed, she breathlessly dropped into a chair, and wiped the perspiration from her face with the corner of her ap.r.o.n.

"Now, den, jes' holl'r an' kick, tell you hollers an' kicks yo'se'f plum out."

This the boy did at a length and with a violence unbelievable, Mammy sitting all the while at the side of the bed to see that he did not roll off and humming broken pieces of song as though perfectly unconcerned.

When the screaming had spent itself, and naught remained of it but long hard sniffles, Mammy began mumbling, "Well, bless de Lawd, I bin thinkin'

I wus nussin' er fuss cla.s.s qual'ty chile all dis time, an' hyah it tu'n out I bin wor'in' m'se'f wid one er Sis' Sow's mis'r'ble little pigs."

A low wail was the only answer to this thrust.

"Hit's de trufe! An' I done make up m' mine I ain't gwine do it no longer.

What's de use er me stayin' hyah, nussin' er pig chile, when I kin g'long an' nuss er fuss cla.s.s qual'ty chile like Mary Van, an' I'm gwine do it, too!"

One little arm reached out to the old woman:

"Mammy!"

But she continued: "M'ye'rs is broke wid all dat pig holl'rin'! I don't speck I ev'r is ter heah no mo', neither!"

Sobbing and sniffling, the little boy crawled to her lap, and tried to look into her ear. She continued obstinately: "Can't heah er thing! I knows you'se in m' lap, but les'n I seed yo' face I cudn't tell ef you wus laffin' er cryin'."

Both arms went tight around her neck:

"Mammy, I won't be bad no mo'!"

Pretending to weep, Mammy said pathetically:

"I wush I cud heah! I speck Miss Lucy'll tu'n me out now, 'caze m'ye'rs won't hear no mo', an' den I'll hatt'r go off ter de woods an' die by m'se'f 'mongst de beastes; an' I speck dey'll kill me, 'caze I can't heah 'em comin'! Boo hoo!"

At this, Willis's suffering became so intense she feared to continue the punishment and so began another strain.

"But dey tells me dat ef folks whut's bin bad prays ter de Lawd an' kisses de place whut hurts, dat some time de Lawd makes de place well ergin; dat is,--ef de bad chile promise he ain' gwine be bad no mo'."

Instantly the little swollen lips moistened with blubbers, covered first one black ear and then the other.

"An' dey got ter pray, too," suggested Mammy.

"Now I lay me!" came in broken sniffles.

Suddenly throwing up her hands, a look of rapture on her face, Mammy shouted:

"Lawsee! I b'lieve I heahs you snifflin'!" She listened carefully: "I does! Tell Mammy you loves her an' lemme see ef I kin heah you."

"I loves--" began the little boy, nestling in her arms.

"'Cose I kin heah, but I tell yer de Lawd ain' gwine ter notice yo'

pray'rs no mo', ef you keeps letting de '_pig chile part_' er you come out."

"I don't want ter be er pig chile!"

"I don't speck you does, but you sho' 'pear terday like you come straight up fum de pigsty! Don't you 'member dat party Miss Race Hoss giv' an'

'vite Sis' Sow an' her chilluns ter come ter it?"

Willis shook his head.

"Look er hear boy, who you shakin' dat head at?"

"I says, no, ma'm!"

"You'se late in de day sayin' it, too. Enyhow, Miss Race Hoss giv' er party an' 'vite Sis' Cat an' her chilluns, an' Sis' Dog an' her chilluns, an' Sis' Cow an' de lit'le calf; an' she sorter pa.s.s conversation wid Mist'r Race Hoss 'bout 'vitin' Sis' Sow an' her fambly. Mist'r Race Hoss say long as he's in pol'ticks an' want ter git 'lected ergin ter be ruler er de beastes, he speck she bett'r 'vite Sis' Sow. So Miss Race Hoss say all right! An' she done it.

"Oh, I tell you Miss Race Hoss fix up er fine party! She had mouses fur de cat fambly, an' dey wus nice, fine, live mouses too, an' bones an' meat fur de Dog fambly, an' hot bran mash mixt wid cott'n seed meal fur Sis'

Cow's fambly, an' she had b.u.t.termilk in er big trauff fur Sis' Sow an' her chilluns. An' she pile apples, an' carrots, an' ev'y sort er thing in de middle er de table. An' she had salt fur dem dat wants salt, an' sugar fur dem whut mus' have sugar.

"Well, de fuss uns ter come wus Sis' Cat an' her chilluns. Sis' Cat had done wash' her kittens' faces jes' es clean an' put dem mitt'ns on 'em dat yo' ma read ter us erbout.

"Den hyah come Sis' Dog an' her fambly. Dey all had bows 'roun' der necks an' look mouty gran'! Sis' Cow an' de calf wus curri'd slick es gla.s.s, an'

I tell yer Miss Race Hoss wus glad her an' de little colt had dem ribbins tied up in der manes, 'caze Sis' Cow was sho' pressin' 'em in slickness.

"Ole Brer Bar he come down fum de woods ter 'tend ter de dinin' room an'

see dat ev'ybody git de right vit'als.

"Atter dey bin waitin' fer er spell, Brer Bar 'nounce dat soon es Sis' Sow come de party wus ready.

"All uv 'em want ter go ter eatin' dat minit, 'caze dem cats smell dem mouses, an' dem dogs moufs jes' er dreanin' wid de smell er dat meat; but dey sets dar like dey done fergit all erbout vit'als, 'caze dese heah wus qual'ty animals wid manners, I tell yer.

"Pres'ntly Miss Race Hoss low dat she see Sis' Sow comin' now, an' she seen her, too, fur hyah come Sis' Sow an' all her chilluns er runnin' ev'y which er way, wid mud all ov'r dey backs. Some uv 'em wus wet an' some uv 'em wus dry. Dey come er runnin' an' none uv 'em ain't nuv'r stop ter pa.s.s howdy wid Miss Race Hoss, 'caze dey smell de vit'als, an' dey ain't got nuff manners ter hide de pig in 'em. Dey come er rootin' an' er gruntin'

all 'roun' b'hime folks an' b'fo' fokes, tell dey pa.s.s too close ter Sis'

Cat's chilluns, fur dey sorter raise up dey backs an' bushy out dey tails, an' raise up dey paws, but Sis' Cat she sorter growl sof' an' dey pa.s.sify deysefs an' sets still. Sis' Dog's chilluns wanter snap es dey come er trompin' on top er dey foots, but dey 'strains deysefs 'caze dey wus fuss cla.s.s qual'ty dogs.

"Brer Bar see Sis' Sow rootin' an' gruntin' her way ter de table, so he 'nounce fur 'em all ter come in ter de party. He sorter push Sis' Sow an'

her chilluns off ter de b.u.t.termilk trauff. De uther folks dey sets down at de table an' acts like fuss cla.s.s folks does, but Sis' Sow an' her pig chilluns ain't seed dey vit'als 'fo' all uv 'em try ter git in de trauff wid dey foots. Dey pushes an' tromps 'pon one 'nuther, an' squeals, an'

eats loud _like you done terday_!"

The brown eyes fell and an humble little voice said, "I ain't gointer do it no mo'."

"De Lawd knows I'm glad to hear it. Well, Sis' Sow an' dem, quoil an' make so much fuss, tell de uther fokes can't pa.s.s no conversation er tall, tell pres'ntly Sis' Sow an' de pigs eat up all dey vit'als an' dey come gruntin' an' er rootin' fur mo'. Dey spy dem apples an' things on de table, an' 'fo' yer knows it, dem pig chillun wus 'pon top er dat table.

"Wid dat, Brer Bar git so mad he slap 'em off fas' es dey gits on; but de fust un he slap' off fell right in 'mongst Sis' Cat's kittens. Whoopee!

Dem kittin chillun fergits all 'bout manners an' 'gins scratchin' an'

fightin' same es pigs. Sis' Dog's chilluns jes' nach.e.l.ly cudn't stan' no sich er strain on dey manners es dat, an' 'fo' yer kin say 'Jack Robson,'

de kittins an' de puppies an' de pigs wus er squealin', an' er barkin', an' er spittin', an' er growlin', tell you can't hear yo' ye'rs. Sis' Sow start ter runnin' down de road wid de pigs atter her, an' de puppies atter de pigs, an' de kittins atter de puppies. Wid dat de little calf git 'cited an' he start ter kickin' out his b'hime legs, which happen ter hit de lit'le colt, an' he r'ar' hissef back an' come down on de calf, an'

bofe uv 'em take out down de road er holl'rin' an' er kickin', an' er twistin' deysefs _like you done terday_!"